The Ringed Castle - Dorothy Dunnett [12]
‘What walls?’ Lymond said. ‘Tell me how they are manned. And the names of the gates and the bridges.’
He had picked, as it happened, the most observant man in the company. Danny Hislop pursed his lips, aware of the ranked eyes around him, and then, drawing breath, reeled off with care all the details which Lymond had asked for.
‘Good. And the house we are in?’ said Lymond kindly. ‘How would you defend this house, Hislop?’
‘Given weapons?’ said Danny. He was recovering, but kept any hint of the caustic most rigorously out of his voice.
‘Assuming hand guns and bows and all that goes with them, but nothing else except for your knives and your swords.’
Danny glanced round. ‘Against what sort of attack? It’s not very defensible.’
‘It isn’t, is it? Against an attack by fifty men, with bows and inferior small arms,’ said Lymond.
‘Christ!’ said Plummer, But Danny, thinking it out as he spoke, produced, in snatches, the scheme for defence he had been asked for. Then, restored, the bland hazel eyes rested on Lymond.
‘Thank you,’ said his commander. He looked round. ‘I hope you all heard it. I further hope you will all obey to the letter the instructions I have laid down on conduct. Because if you make a mistake with these people, you can expect neither to survive in this house, nor to escape through the walls of the city. Is it possible,’ said Francis Crawford, ‘that we might now carry on with our business?’
Much later, when their discussions were ended and the afternoon was half worn through, Lymond touched Guthrie on the shoulder and walked with him to the window, where they could see the courtyard and the crowded brown ranks of log houses, and beyond them, the walls of the Kremlin. Lymond said, ‘They’ve been in good hands. They will still be under you for all day-to-day purposes.’
Alec Guthrie said, ‘I should have got rid of Hislop.’
‘No,’ said Lymond. ‘We’ve had the cleverness thrust down our throats. Let’s see what other quality he has. Where have you been fighting?’
There was a year and more to describe, telling of the long power struggle between Henri of France and the failing Emperor Charles with his over-extended possessions in Spain and Burgundy, Italy and Peru, Sicily and the Netherlands. Guthrie reported, and Lymond asked all the questions. ‘And the Pope?’ For between these two empires the Pope, of design, held the balance.
Dryly, Alex Guthrie quoted the words of the Emperor. ‘Our custom has always been to speak with respect and moderation to Popes, whose goodwill we need on account of concessions and other favours we are frequently obliged to demand.’
‘Where did you pick up that jewel?’ Lymond said.
‘Hercules Tait. You remember. He’s in Venice now, and has a very dear friend in the Council of Ten. From his letters you’d think he helps the Doge with his spelling. He says the Emperor Charles will marry his son to Queen Mary of England.’
‘It seems unfortunate,’ said Lymond idly. ‘… I wonder if Hercules Tait would write to me? I have a great deal of time for the right kind of gossip.’
‘Yes,’ said Guthrie after a moment. ‘I believe that he would.’ He paused. ‘I thought you were confident that the Tsar would want our services, and for some time, at that?’
‘I am still confident,’ said Lymond briefly. ‘But we have a virgin nation here on our hands, with no more than two generations of cohesion behind it. Nothing is going to be quick. And what happens in west Europe meantime may well determine what happens to us here in Moscow. When we are called to the Tsar, I shall let you know. If you want me, this is how you can reach me.’
Alec Guthrie looked at the paper he was being given. ‘You are not living here?’
‘No. I saved to the last,’ Lymond said, ‘my piece of gossip, which you can retail later for the undoubted edification of Hislop and d’Harcourt and the rest. I have no financial resources. Your journey to Moscow has been paid for by a woman now living in Moscow. She is no concern of yours, but she is in partnership with us in so far as we are in her debt until our present expense is repaid. Her house is mine,